“Go on. We don’t have all day.”
“Give me a damn minute!” He snapped, refusing to take his eyes off the distance.
“It’s not that bad. Just hold onto the rope and set your feet. Over one, under the other. If you need to slow, step down. The pressure will stop you. To speed up, lift your foot slightly. It’s pretty simple.”
Closing his eye Gareth positioned his feet, keeping a death grip on the thread like line. Trembling, he opened his eye again to look at the rope around his feet. It was much thicker than it felt, though it didn't set him at ease. “Like that?”
“Yeah.” Demetrix lunged forward, shoving him over the edge.
“You motherfucker!” Gareth clenched tight, holding to the rope with every part of his body.
Demetrix stepped toward the edge and looked down, seeing his friend gently swaying back and forth. “All you have to do is lift your left foot and you’ll slide to the bottom.”
His face hurt. He clenched so tight he could feel tears squeeze from his good eye. The words reached him, but his body wouldn’t comply. “I can’t. I can’t!”
“You’re telling me a big, strong warrior like you can rush into battle without a second thought, but he can’t handle sliding down a rope?” Demetrix couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m gonna kill you when I get down from here. You know that right?”
“Well, I guess it’s a good thing down's the only way you can go. Unless you’ve learned to fly?”
Forcing himself to peak into the depths below, keeping his death grip, he felt nauseous. The slight spin was making him uneasy, as if the more he twisted the quicker the rope was going to break.
Demetrix drew his dagger, stepping toward the ledge. “I hate to do this, but I’m going to count to ten. If you haven’t started sliding by the time I get there, I’m going to cut the rope.”
“Don’t you fucking dare!”
“One, two, three…” He placed the dagger against the braided hemp, making sure Gareth could see it. “… four, five…”
Gareth slowly lifted his foot. The rope slid through his grip, slowly guiding him toward solid ground. Within seconds he reached the bottom, toeing the icy surface. Trembling, he scooted as close to the wall as he could, refusing to get near the edge.
Demetrix put away his dagger and grabbed the line. Abandoning all caution he jumped, letting the free fall claim him. Watching the rapidly approaching ledge he hooked his feet and pressed down, slowing him enough to tighten his grip. Moments before impact he locked both hands and feet, stopping him instantly. The rapid descent stretched the rope nearly an additional foot. Stepping off, he let go. The rope sprung away from him, suddenly free of the weight.
Lost in impulse Gareth stepped forward and swung, catching the young dalari in the side of the head. Justice flowed through him. Had he not dropped he would have hit him again. Anger fueling him, he scooted his feet an inch at a time across the thin layer of ice. The slippery material comprised the entirety of the bridge.
The pain throbbing through his frozen ear was but pinprick to the uncontrollable laughter rolling from him. Demetrix stared up at the enraged dreuslayer, forcing his laughter to subside. “I hope you feel better now.”
Ravion chuckled, pulling his brother to his feet. “You know you deserved that, right?”
Chuckling to himself Demetrix watched Gareth reach the other side. “Yeah, I kind of did. Did you know he was afraid of heights?”
“Why do you think he spends so much time under ground?”
His eyes got big, as if he'd just uncovered some big secret. “Is he a dwarf?”
An angry shout echoed across the ravine. “I'm not a gods’ damned dwarf! Get over here before I plant my boot in your ass!”
Whispering, Demetrix added to the annoyance. “He's angry. Must be a dwarf thing.”
Ravion shook his head, instantly regretting their plan. Quickly crossing the bridge, he joined Gareth on the other side.
Chapter XXII
Out With the Old
Metallic dust rose from the stiff, golden pages, gleaming in the torchlight. Ravion meticulously flipped through them, searching the etched words. A golden sheen danced across his face, renewed by each page. Scanning as fast as his eyes would allow, he froze, holding the raised page near its threshold. He recognized the words, but their meaning was lost upon him.
Gareth leaned against the chiseled walk, feeling the heat from the torch overhead. Glancing over the young dalari's shoulder he sighed heavily, showering him in a nagging disapproval. “Do you really think now is the time to be reading that?”
Refusing to look up from the foreign words he turned another page. “Ask yourself this. Would you rather have some idea as to what we’re facing when we find the mirror? Or be forced to figure it out during a fight? I believe it'd be rather difficult to read a book while dodging a sword.”
Gareth sighed, pushing himself off the wall. Pacing across the narrow tunnel he kicked his drying boots, watching dust fall from the rough surface. “I suppose you’re right. Gods, what’s taking him so long?” Spinning around he fell against the section he'd been leaning and slid down, taking a seat next to Ravion.
“Have patience, my friend. He’ll be back soon enough.” Flipping between two pages, he noted a similarity in text. The ancient writing was fascinating, though a bit dry at times. “I wish I knew who wrote these books. They put some serious effort into them.”
“Probably some wizard with too much time on his hands. I’d even wager he used a magic quill to do all the work. Lazy bastard!”
Ravion chuckled, shifting the book so Gareth could see it. “The words are carved, Gareth. Besides, not all casters take shortcuts. I’ve known quite a few that refuse to take the easy route for fear of becoming dependent on their magic. Those few have my utmost respect.”
“Blah! Just because they never showed you their fixations doesn’t mean they didn’t have ‘em.”
Ravion shook his head, knowing he’d never win this argument. Hearing footsteps, he shifted his attention toward the entrance.
Demetrix stepped into the torchlight, lowering his hood. “It’s done. We shouldn’t have to worry about anyone coming up behind us.”
“Finally! Can we go now?” Gareth jumped up, straightening his cloak.
“Someone seems a bit impatient.” Demetrix pulled the torch from its holder and smothered the flame.
Using the final bits of light Ravion closed the book and stuffed it back into his satchel. Pulling himself up he stretched, listening to his back pop.
An unwelcome snap caught their attention. Jumping to the ready they stared into the face of a middle-aged man wearing black robes. His receded hairline left a slight peak in the center, accentuating his pale-white face.
“I thought I saw a torch flicker. What have we here? Three humans…” He paused, sniffing the air. “No. Two dalari and something I've never smelt before.” A wicked smile came to his lips. “You've come to pay homage to the shadow, haven't you? I must say, not many of your kind are left around here. Thought we'd found them all. I guess not. No worries though, you're here now. I’ll be happy to deliver your sacrifice.” He kicked his cloak behind him letting it fall to the center of his back. Drawing his broadsword, he centered it on his mass and took a deep breath.
“What is it with these guys? They're so cocky. Okay, so I tend to talk—”
“A lot!” Gareth interjected.
“But am I really this sure of myself when I do it?”
“Yeah, you kind of are.” Demetrix nocked an arrow and took aim, waiting for a clean shot.
“Really?” Lunging forward Ravion drew his sword, hearing the metal collide. Spinning around for another attack he felt something brush his leg. “Be on the lookout, something else is here.”
The sharliet easily deflected the strike. Twisting the wide blade he sprang into action, slashing at Ravion. Seeing the attack was short he side stepped and readied for another strike. It was one thing to
combat a single opponent, but three at once would prove difficult unless he could keep them bottle necked.
Ravion leaned back, avoiding the blow. This man was skilled in the ways of the blade. He was already in position to disrupt their efforts; forcing them to work around each other. Feigning left he spun around and attacked opposite, hoping to use the man's tactics against him. Falling back he spoke, encrypting his words. “Retnec Xirtemed, thgir og ll'I, tfel ekat, Hterag.”
Understanding, Gareth drew his blades and stabbed in aiming at the pale human's left side. Dipping the blade, he rolled his wrist and switched hands. The sharliet wasn’t quick enough to deflect the second strike. The tip stabbed through the black cloth covering the man's torso. It rang out, signifying something solid. “He’s got armor.”
Exhaling slowly, Demetrix forced his body into submission. This shot was too critical to miss by even the slightest margin. Two inches on either side of his brothers’ heads remained clear. The odds were stacked slightly out of favor, but he was confident he could pull it off. Closing his eyes he visualized the target, blocking out all other obstacles. Taking a second breath he opened them, verified, and let loose the string. It rolled off his finger tips and rapidly sprung forward. The arrow buckled under the sudden force. Correcting itself the wooden shaft wobbled slightly and took flight, catching the air in its fins. The feathers began to spin, slicing through the air with remarkable speed. The tip was dead on, ready to impale its target. Just a few more feet and it would strike him between the eyes. His heart pounded in his chest. If only it would arrive before his bothers moved. Watching in earnest, waiting for the killing blow, his success was stolen. The arrow stopped mid-air for the briefest moment. A circle of red formed around it and the arrow hit the ground, embedded in some kind of strange, invisible beast. What is that? Stepping forward he watched as the creature faded into view and drew its last breath. The arrow had pierced its nostril and exited the rear of its fur-less head.
Gareth stole a glance back, spotting the huge dog lying dead behind him. “What the hell is that?”
Demetrix stared at the beast, lost in its appearance. It appeared to be some form of dog, though none he'd ever seen before. Its gravelly skin was black, looking almost of scale. The eyes were lifeless and dark. It had the stench of decay about it. An unusual hiss escaped the beast. It melted before his eyes, disappearing into nothing but a handful of cave dust. Shaking his head he grabbed his arrow and readied to fire another shot.
The sharliet stabbed and hooked his blade, forcing both warriors to react. Instantly withdrawing he stepped back, building a cushion of space between himself and the trespassers. “You’re gonna’ pay for that!” Extending his gloved hand he let archaic words flow forth. “Thgif siht dne ot rewop em dnel, thgilp s'tnavres ruoy, thgim Tsekrad!”
Demetrix felt his chest tighten. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew the man had a hold of him. He felt the pressure squeezing the life from him. His heart raced, constricting itself quicker by the second. He wouldn’t be able to take much more. Losing feeling in his arms he watched his bow hit the ground, springing away from him. The impact reverberated through his body. He was lying on the crudely chiseled floor, convulsing. He foamed at the mouth while clutching his chest, unable to give his torment voice.
Ravion looked from the caster and back to his brother. His skin was turning blue. He had to do something and quick. “Hey!” Reaching beneath his cloak he flung a simple dagger. It flew true, aimed at the man's chest. He didn't move, didn't acknowledge it… didn't flinch. Ravion watched the small blade hit head on. It narrowly touched his shirt and shot to the side, landing on the floor. What the hell? How’d that miss?
Gareth closed his eye, focusing his will on the assailant. Whispers filled his head. Whispers and shadow. He couldn’t understand the words, but the intent was clear. I have to stop this. He forced his rage to the surface and turned toward Demetrix. Keeping his eye shut he envisioned the air around the ranger. Stacking it like blocks he created a thick shield, blocking out the dark energy flowing toward his friend. He felt the invisible grip collide with his wall, trying to find a way through. Unable to find flaw, it retreated and disappeared.
***
What? Why’d it stop before I crushed his heart? The sharliet sniffed the air, searching for something. They haven’t used magic. Why'd it fail? Lost in the moment, unable to understand what happened, fear overcame him. Has Izrayle withdrawn his blessing? Does he want these intruders alive? Feeling a sharp pain erupt in his chest, his thoughts were cut short. Glancing down he noticed a purple and black handle protruding from him. “Impossible. No blade can pierce—”
He collapsed, unable to speak another word. The pain was immense. It burned to the depths of his soul, as if it was being devoured. Then all was gone. He couldn't feel anything. No pain, no joy, no sorrow. He was simply a void floating in the ether of creation.
***
Raising his head to the sky he sniffed the air, feeling the cold freeze his nose hair. The scent was gone. Gritting his teeth his tusk ground together, containing his rage. There was only one place it would be expelled and that wasn't here. Searching the snow he spotted a partially covered footprint. The torrential snowfall was rapidly covering them. Knowing they wouldn't last much longer he charged after them, watching the other two pair join them. Jumping from one set to another, he stopped at the edge of the tree line. Turning back, he waved his orcs to join him.
They approached, cautiously navigating the slick slopes. Reaching the cliff’s edge they paused, seeing the single rope disappearing over the edge. Krenin leaned over, spotting the bridge below. “It look weak. One at a time.” Refusing to wait he grabbed the rope and quickly slid down. Making his way across the icy path he drew his warvich and stopped just outside the cave. He hated waiting, but the others were needed if for nothing but fodder.
One of the orcs watched, seeing Krenin make his way across. Grabbing the thin braid he stepped off and slid down, using his hands to control his speed. He hit the rocky outcrop harder than he’d intended. Grabbing the rope he gave two hard pulls, letting the others know he’d reached the bottom. He waited, watching Grem mount the rope. Seeing him in position, he turned and started across the bridge. His leather soled boots made it hard to navigate the slippery surface.
Grem grabbed the rope and pulled hard, making sure it was sturdy enough to hold his weight. Content with its tension he leapt backward, letting the rope slide across his back side. Watching the landing he squeezed, slowing himself. Stepping off he turned and started across the bridge, seeing Murroc reach the far side. No sooner than his boots touched the slick surface his feet came out from under him. He landed hard on the narrow ledge and toppled over the side, disappearing into the darkness below.
Krenin sighed, seeing the orc vanish. “Be careful, we can’t afford to lose you all!”
The next orc waved his understanding. Pulling against the rope he quickly descended and stepped onto the bridge, careful to keep his footing. He froze, feeling the bridge shake violently. Looking back he saw the crossway began to crack. He was too far away to run for it, not that it would do him any good. He was more than likely to slip and fall over the edge. Pausing, he waited, unsure what to do.
Sarok slid down the rope, feeling it bounce under his weight. Curious, he squeezed, stopping himself midway. He looked up to see if the one of the others had mounted. The braid twisted in his hands, slowly spinning him around. Hearing the ice crack he watched in horror as it stretched across, splitting beneath him. He had nowhere to land when he reached the bottom. It was unlikely he could go back up, at least not without adjusting his grip.
An echoing pop radiated through the chasm and the bridge disappeared into the abyss, his brother along with it. “Pull me up!” He shouted to the two remaining orcs. He felt them grab and lift. Rising nearly a foot he felt the rope stretch beneath his grip, triggering the thought of his demise. Glancing down he saw the other end disappear into the shadow.
Krenin stared out watching the fear ridden face of Sakok, dangling helplessly halfway down the rope. He heard it pop like a whip, ripping it free from the tree at the top. The rope shot out, frayed end slicing through the air. One of the braids caught his face sending pain through him. He hit the ground, unable to contain it. Watching the rope disappear into the darkness he realized exactly what had happened. “This was a trap!” Pulling himself to his feet he reached up, feeling the blood on his fingers. Licking it, it tasted of vengeance. He lifted the harness from the snow and turned toward the dark tunnel. “Let's go. The others no use to us now!”
***
The carved tunnels dissipated taking on the form of stone. Before long they were marching through what appeared to be a part of the castle dungeon. The occasional scones reflected the labyrinth of corridors and passageways, but it was eerily quiet. Aside from the sharliet they hadn't seen another soul since arrival, though that was partially by design. Voices meant trouble so they avoided them when they could.
“I wish we’d found him before going after the rod. This place gives me a bad feeling. It makes me feel guilty for failing to free him.” Demetrix stopped at the doorway, listening for any movement. Continuing past he scanned the distance, an arrow at the ready.
Ravion ducked under the collapsed beams lodged against the wall. “We're all feeling that way. It's like the stone is whispering doubt, making us weak. Just ignore it. We'll be home soon enough. Besides, there was nothing we could have done differently. I’ve replayed it in my head many times. If we’d rescued him first, we would have had orcs on our tail the entire time. I doubt we would have been able to handle both orcs on top of the guards. Not to mention the amount of death we would’ve had to deal were that the case.”
“Sometimes a high body count has its advantages. For starters, people don’t want to get in your way. If we had the reputation to back it up, I doubt the magistrate would have been as apprehensive with her aid.” Gareth smiled recalling the fear he’d placed in the woman.
The Order of the Trident: Speculum (Eldarlands Book 2) Page 27
